


The Gift of Death

by Written_Ideas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-02-15 13:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13032399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Written_Ideas/pseuds/Written_Ideas
Summary: Cassandra is a muggleborn witch with an interesting ability to witness a person's death before it happens. Will she learn to embrace and understand her unusual gift and save people she cares about, or will it all be for nothing?Excerpt:“What did you know, Cassandra?”“That they were going to die, professor. I knew. I saw it and I knew. But no one… nobody ever believed me.”Professor Dumbledore was careful in keeping his expression calm. He didn’t want to let her know that this gift she spoke of was unusual and unheard of, though she probably already knew it. “Why, my dear girl, did you choose to let me know?”Cassandra looked up at Dumbledore, a look of utter fear and despair etched across her face. “Because,” she paused, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to keep a steady gaze. “A war is coming, professor. One led by You-Know-Who.”





	1. The Girl Who Was Left

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for my OC, Cassandra Stark (and the other OCs too).

The Starks were quite well-off. That was common knowledge, of course, to their equally well-off neighbours. Mr. Stark worked as a bank manager and had a penchant for numbers and interests. There were even talks about Mr. Stark being promoted, though no one could say for sure what the new position might be.  
  
Mrs. Stark, on the other hand, found that the working life was not for her. Instead, she decided on something far more interesting--trading gossips with the other housewives and reading the latest fashion magazines. It was much better than spending time watching over her young daughter, Cassandra.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Stark curled up on the sofa set, staring at their daughter. The 18-month-old continued playing with the several soft toys littered across the wooden floor. She seemed particularly interested in the little red dragon toy that Mrs. Stark found distasteful. Mrs. Stark crossed her legs and sighed. Mr. Stark wrapped an arm around his wife.  
  
“What is the matter, love?” The tall, lanky man with slicked back black hair asked his wife.  
  
Mrs. Stark sighed again, looking at her manicured fingers with slight interest. “Nothing, dearest.” But of course, Mrs. Stark was never able to keep her opinions to herself. She did, after all, prided herself as a knowledgeable woman on the affairs of everyone else around her. “It’s just, what are we supposed to do with _her _?”__  
  
Mr. Stark pushed a loose strand of his wife’s brown hair behind her ear and gave her a lazy smile. “It’ll be quite alright, Charlotte. I am certain that Cassandra will learn to accept her nannies.”  
  
“Of course,” Mrs. Stark replied, reluctance in her tone as she turned her attention to her young daughter again. “If you say so, Leonard.” She stood up and gestured at Cassandra. “Come on, angel, time for bed.”  
  
Cassandra wobbled over to her mother, with her dragon in tow, and waited to be picked up. Mrs. Stark picked up her daughter like a person would have picked up a dirty puppy—with her hands under her daughter’s armpits and at arm’s length from her own person. The mother and daughter disappeared up the stairs as Mr. Stark pondered about his sweet little golden brown-haired Cassandra. No one had told them that raising a child would be difficult.  
  
_If only they had been warned. ___  
  
Mrs. Stark settled Cassandra into her crib and wished the young girl good night. She stared at the little girl she had given birth to. Perhaps, Mrs. Stark thought, she would learn to love her. She sighed and shook her head before turning off the lights and leaving the door ajar.  
  
The 18-month-old stared at the small music box on the dressing table and waited as sweet music started to play. Cassandra wrapped herself with the blanket and huddled close to her dragon. _Safe. _Safe place. Mr. Dragon will protect her.__

_____ _

____

  


“Mrs. Stark,” a familiar voice called out, “breakfast is ready, ma’am.”  
  
It had been several months since then, and Mrs. Michael had been one of the many new help the Starks had hired to help Mrs. Stark around the house.  
  
Mrs. Stark rose from her seat and switched the television set off before making her way to the kitchen. She greeted wrinkly Mrs. Michael with a smile and pecked her husband on the cheek. “Good morning, Mrs. Michael." Then, turning to fix her husband with the sweetest smile she could manage, "Sweetheart, I trust you remembered what you must do today.”  
  
Cassandra stared at the scrambled eggs on her plate and wished there were more salt on it. Her mother never did like salty food. Mr. Stark didn’t seem too bothered about what he eats. Young Cassandra took a small bite of her egg and was pleasantly surprised at the rich flavour. She looked up to smile at Mrs. Michael, but the older woman didn’t seem to understand what had happened. Instead, Mrs. Michael took a couple of steps back from Cassandra as though the young girl was about to cause a mini explosion.  
  
“Of course, love. I believe Mrs. Lane seemed willing to watch little Cassandra,” Mr. Stark replied, flipping through the newspaper.  
  
Mrs. Stark gave her husband a disapproving look and snatched the newspaper from his hands. “No, dearest. That is not what we agreed on!” Her shrill voice hurt Cassandra’s ears as the young girl tried to cover them. “She has scared every single person we have hired!”  
  
“ _Nonsense _.” Mr. Stark disagreed, looking like he swallowed a sour plum.__  
  
“It is true, Mr. Stark!” Mrs. Michael interjected. “Weird things have happened around the young miss.”  
  
“That is enough of this discussion.” Mr. Stark stood up, snatching his newspaper back and picking up his briefcase. “Now, I’ll be going to work, Charlotte.”  
  
“O-of course, dearest,” Mrs. Stark agreed.  
  
Mr. Stark smiled and pecked his wife and his daughter before leaving the house. Mrs. Stark stormed out of the kitchen as soon as she was done with her food, fully intent on finding someone else to complain—forgive her, she meant to say to _talk _to. Mrs. Michael started clearing the table and washing the dishes without waiting for Cassandra to finish with her meal.__  
  
Wrinkling her nose, Cassandra dropped her fork and wobbled her way back to the living room to search for her little red dragon. Safe. She hugged the toy to her chest and watched the television with interest. How would one go about switching the odd little box on? But it didn't matter if she knew how because one minute it was off and the next, sound and colour started appearing.  
  
"Good morning, England and welcome to the Morning News with Patrick O’Connell!” The short-looking man with no hair on his head greeted. “Fine morning we’re having though we’re expecting a little downpour soon. And in bird news, never thought I’ll _ever _say that,” the newscaster chuckled to himself, “but in bird news, we have sightings of owls appearing in broad daylight. I’m certain Ted will have more on this on the Evening Show with Ted-"__  
  
Cassandra stared at the birds flying outside and smiled, “owl.” The young girl attempted to climb up to the window when Mrs. Michael appeared and took her down. Cassandra frowned and struggled against the elderly woman’s grasp.  
  
“Now, now, Miss Stark, no climbing.” Mrs. Michael glanced at the television. “Didn’t Mrs. Stark turn that dreadful speaking box off?” Cassandra nodded, and Mrs. Michael just shook her head. “Goodness, child.”  
  
Cassandra went back to playing with her toys as Mrs. Michael settled down onto the sofa and began reading an Enid Blyton book out loud. It seemed peaceful for the moment. Everything would go on as it always did. Mrs. Stark would return home from her gossiping adventure. Mr. Stark would return home from the bank, where he easily destroyed the hopes and dreams of young businessmen. Then, Cassandra spent her time staring at her parents, looking as though she knew something awful that they had no idea about.  
  
And just down the road from the Starks, was another family of ordinary people, the Dursleys, whose lives will change just as much as Cassandra Stark.  
  
It was night time when the streetlights went dark. A tall, thin, and very old man stood beside a black-haired woman in emerald green robes. Her upturned nose towards Number Four Privet Drive showed her distaste for the family. Her eyes flickered for a moment at the sleeping baby by the Dursleys’ front door. The old man, Albus Dumbledore, knew that it was time for him to go.  
  
“I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall,” said the man, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall, the woman in the emerald robes, blew her nose in reply.  
  
Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner, he stopped and took out a silver object that resembled a lighter. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange. “Good luck, Harry,” he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.  
  
If Albus Dumbledore had stayed for a little while longer, he would have noticed a sleek black car driving out onto the street, where the faith of another young gifted child would change forever.


	2. The Gift of Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Merry (Belated) Christmas! 
> 
> This chapter, I feel like I have to apologize in advance, will have quite a bit of information and I hope it won't be too much. Thank you for reading and hope you'll enjoy it! I promise things will be getting lighter soon, with undertones of death/sense of foreboding in the coming chapters (mostly lighthearted chapters though). Hogwarts is coming soon too!
> 
> Have a great rest of your evening/day!

It had been about six years since Cassandra had last seen her own home, Number Eight Privet Drive. She remembered her parents coming into an agreement that they just weren’t suited to raising a child. The brown-eyed girl scoffed, turning over to her side. It wasn’t that. It was something more than that. It was because they couldn’t raise _her_. Cassandra was a weird girl. She was odd. Things just happened whenever she was around. But that wasn’t the worst part-  
  
“Come on, Death Girl,” one of the older girls shook her.  
  
Cassandra groaned and forced herself up. She hated that nickname, but it made sense. Ever since she could remember, she had always been able to see when someone will die, and how and where they will die, though it only came in figments of images--sometimes, she would hear voices and sounds, but that rarely happened. So it was easy for Cassandra to know when exactly the nickname started—on 2nd November 1981, the day after she arrived to the orphanage. The nine-year-old did not understand why. She had no idea why she had such strange abilities. However, she had to learn to keep her mouth shut on it. It wasn't easy, but it made her life a little easier. Of course, it helped that she didn't have much friends, or any for that matter; it made it easier to watch people suddenly die and not really miss them much, like the death of the old caretaker, Mrs. Higgins. It was a peaceful death.  
  
She heard the other children running to the bathrooms to get ready. Sighing, it was time for another day then. She waited until she could hear the water stop running. Footsteps hurried down the stairs. Time to get ready for school. She glanced at the mirror that's by the corner of the room and frowned, brushing her tangled golden-brown hair behind her ear. Cassandra trudged forward, looking out into the corridor and hoping that no one else was around. The other orphans had to be downstairs having breakfast, which meant she won’t be getting any breakfast. It was alright. It was better to avoid breakfast than to face the other children. She didn’t hate them, but they didn’t like her. She was just glad that they generally ignored her. She made her way to the shared bathroom and took a quick shower. She wore her school uniform and a sweater over it to hide the purplish marks decorating her arms. She walked back to her bedroom and grabbed her bag before creeping down the stairs, careful not to make a single noise.  
  
She rushed out the door and ran all the way to the school. Cassandra sighed in relief when she made it there without bumping into any of her classmates. See, the thing was, the children at the orphanage were fine compared to the students in her class. She rubbed her hands together to calm her nerves; she knew that it was only a matter of time before everyone started showing up. She pulled out one of her textbooks and started reading to pass the time and to ignore her growling stomach.  
  
Noise started to fill the classroom. Cassandra tried her hardest to stay hidden and hoped no one would notice her. But it seemed like fate had different plans for her. She looked up as her book was suddenly snatched from her. She glared though her hands trembled from where they were on her lap.  
  
“I want my book back.”  
  
They laughed. “Aw, she wants her book back!”  
  
“Give it back now.” Cassandra bit her bottom lip.  
  
“Give _Death Girl_ her book back before she jinxes you all to death,” one of the boys joked.  
  
Cassandra glared at him and she watched with satisfaction as he let out a yelp and hid behind another boy. She turned her attention back to the girls in front of her as a book was suddenly slammed onto her table.  
  
“Watch yourself, Stark!” The girl holding her book shouted. It was, of course, Nora. Nora had short black hair and green eyes and she had a bad temper most of the time. Nora narrowed her eyes, “well, what are you going to do? Make the lights flicker? Read my horoscope? Tell me I’m going to die tomorrow?”  
  
Cassandra straightened her back, wanting nothing more than to tackle Nora and the other annoying girls and put them in their place.  
  
But the door to the classroom opened, revealing a dishevelled-looking teacher with white chalk powder in his hair. “Settle down, everyone. It’s time for class to begin.”  
  
Cassandra settled back into her seat, her heart rate slowing down as the teacher droned on about the history of the world. She didn’t care much for history, not when it didn’t involve dragons, fairies, or unicorns. But nonetheless, Cassandra forced herself to take notes and pay attention. She had a plan, you see. She had a plan to do well throughout her school life and earn herself a scholarship to another school as soon as she can. She needed to get away from _this place_. 

  


During lunch break, Cassandra scraped out a couple of coins and paid for a piece of bread. She stuffed the bread in her pocket and hurried to the girls’ bathroom. Locking herself in one of the cubicle, she relaxed and allowed herself to eat. She washed her hands and drank from the tap water. She rushed over to the classroom and took her seat when Nora and the girls from before approached her again.  
  
“We didn’t see you at lunch today, Stark. What’s the matter? Too poor for food?”  
  
Cassandra ignored her.  
  
“I’m talking to you, Death Girl,” the girl glared. Then she smirked. “Or have you grown _deaf_?”  
  
Cassandra wanted to argue back, if only to point out that puns didn’t work that way, but didn’t, not because she was afraid but because an image popped into her mind—a familiar image, a familiar feeling. She had seen it before. It had started the week before, but ignored it. It hadn't made sense. She had watched as a bus full of students slammed itself into several other vehicles. She watched as some familiar faces were thrown out of the bus, blood sprawling all over the place. A few organs detached from people’s bodies. She watched as some people died—people she knew and people she didn’t. She watched as Nora lost the light in her eyes—as life disappeared from her very soul. But she wasn't supposed to die like _that_.  
  
“Now, class, is everyone ready for our little trip to the museum tomorrow?” A cheery voice interrupted.  
  
Cassandra jerked back to reality and felt a sudden pain on her wrist. She narrowed her eyes as another bruise formed. Nora must have been getting _bored_ while she was seeing…. whatever that was. She looked up to see an unfamiliar dark-haired teacher. A sub, maybe? But it didn’t matter because the other students were all groaning and complaining.  
  
“Why can’t we have the trip elsewhere?” They asked. “Nobody wants to visit a boring old museum!” They moaned.  
  
The teacher sighed, waving his arms as he tried to quiet the students down. Cassandra watched as it eventually worked. “Now, now, you’re the first batch of students given permission to go on a trip so buck up and enjoy it. Hand over your consent forms to me, please.” He walked around the classroom and collected the forms from each of the children except Cassandra. Images of blood and chaos kept appearing in her mind. She shivered, feeling as though something bad was going to happen. “Miss Stark, do you have your consent form?”  
  
“W-what? No, sir,” she stammered out. “Is it-- is it possible to change the day of the trip?”  
  
The other children started snickering.  
  
“Now, you know I can’t possibly change it. It’s happening tomorrow, my dear girl.”  
  
“But!” Cassandra protested. She knew what everyone would think if she told them that they were going to die. But, she bit her bottom lip and steeled herself, she had to do something even if-- even if they called her names and made fun of her and bullied her. She refused to let them die. “If you go tomorrow, everyone will… everyone will die!”  
  
The students erupted into laughter. Cassandra felt her own face heat up as the teacher sighed again. “Miss Stark, I assure you. Everything will be fine. No more jokes about death, you hear me?”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Miss Stark, do I make myself clear?” His disappointed stare stopped Cassandra from pushing the topic any further. No one ever believed her before. It didn’t seem likely for them to start now.  
  
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”  
  
“Good. Now, as punishment, you’re not allowed to join the class trip. Instead, I think it’ll serve you well to study in the library with Madam Bell tomorrow.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
Cassandra ignored the whispered taunts as the class went on. She tried her hardest to run out of the school before any of her classmates caught up to her, but she failed. They circled her with matching smirks on their face. She looked at each of them.  
“Predicting more deaths, Stark? Such a strange hobby to have, don’t you think?”  
  
Cassandra rubbed her hands together and stayed silent. Anything she said wouldn’t have helped her situation. She glanced around to see how the adults ignored them and continued walking. She knew she wouldn’t be getting any help from them nor from any of her other schoolmates, but she stood her ground.  
  
“And you wonder why mommy and daddy abandoned _you_?” Nora mocked. “Who could ever love you?” Cassandra stayed silent, biting her bottom lip to stop herself. She didn’t even look at Nora. It didn’t feel right. The girl was going to be nothing but a memory soon. Most of them had no hope of seeing to the end of the week. “Come on, Stark!” Nora pushed Cassandra down. Cassandra landed on her butt. “What’s the matter with you?!” Nora hit Cassandra’s shoulder, again and again, but Cassandra took it all.  
  
Cassandra heard people shuffling away as though they were bored. She knew why. They expected a fight but all they got was, well, a beating. Inwardly, Cassandra scoffed. Nora started walking away, looking annoyed. Cassandra sat on the pavement and sighed, rubbing her bruised shoulder. She picked herself off the floor and began trudging her way back to the home. It was her turn to prepare dinner.  
  
That night, Cassandra found it difficult to fall asleep, not when images of people dying kept appearing in her mind. She wanted to save them, but she didn’t know how to get people to listen to her. Sure, she hated her classmates, but that didn’t mean she wanted them dead. She tried to warn people and she was ignored every single time. Cassandra knew what they thought of her—not that they were ever silent about their opinions. She was this girl obsessed with death and weird things always happened around her. It wasn’t her fault she was the way she was, right? She shook her head and turned over to face another side.  
  
“Stop that!” A voice hissed. “I’m tryna’ sleep here.”  
  
“Sorry.” Cassandra shut her eyes and tried counting sheep. _It never worked_. 

  


It was during the usual second period class time that she decided she didn’t want to stay in school any longer. She remembered the smug faces of her classmates, especially Nora, as they boarded the bus. They, though horrible, didn’t deserve to die. She ran out of the class, ignoring the angry yells of the librarian, Madam Bell. She ran through the crowd of people, forcing her way and slipping in between people. She forced the images back into her mind as she frantically scanned through the street names. Come on, come on, she thought to herself. She ignored the odd looks she received from passersby—who _would_ really do something about a school-going child wandering through a busy street? Cassandra kept moving, panting heavily.  
  
Then, her feet skidded to a stop after turning around a corner. She was too late.  
  
There were several vehicles that were hit by the bus. The reason was unknown right now, but it didn’t matter as other people got out of their vehicles to help. People that were walking on the street stopped and helped too. It was a blur of people—injured and otherwise. Cassandra scanned the crowd for anyone she recognized. She made her way, but tried to keep out of the paramedics’ way. She squeezed by two cars. Her nose wrinkled as she got nearer. It smelled of petrol and blood—an odd mixture.  
She noticed a familiar hand on the floor—the same hand that had hit her the day before and every day since they had met. Cassandra grabbed the girl’s backpack and threw it aside. She got on her knees and placed her ear on Nora’s chest, hearing for her heartbeat. She tried to ignore Nora’s bleeding head and the pieces of glass stuck on the girl’s face.  
  
Cassandra jumped when a hand grabbed her own wrist. She looked down to see Nora’s eyes narrowed at her.  
  
“D-death girl? What bloody happened?” Nora tried to move her head. It didn’t work.  
  
Cassandra looked around, trying to find one of those paramedics through the smoke and crowd. She looked back down at the injured girl. “Accident.” She croaked out, her mouth dry as more blood pooled on the floor from Nora’s wounds.  
  
“You’re a liar, Stark,” Nora snapped, then she winced. “You’re supposed to be liar!” She tried to push herself up, but Cassandra held the girl down. “I can’t die! You should be the one dying! No one cares about you… No one. I can’t… I can’t die.” Tears escaped Nora’s eyes as she glared at Cassandra again.  
  
Cassandra ignored her. She was right that no one cared about her, but it still stung to hear it. She shook her head, forcing the thoughts away. She had to save the girl. She forced a smile onto her face. “You’re _not_ going to die, Nora.” She stood up and tried to move when Nora held onto her ankle, refusing to let her leave. “I’m going to find someone to help you, Nora. Let me go.”  
  
“You’ll be b-back? Will you?”  
  
Cassandra nodded. Nora finally let her go and Cassandra sprinted out. “Help! I need help! There’s a—there’s a girl-!”  
  
An older man placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Hi- Hi, it’s alright, miss, just tell me where you found her, alright?” She grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards where she found Nora. They made it there. Nora laid there with her eyes closed. The man began checking Nora’s pulse. Weak. It was too faint. He closed his eyes, sighing. He stooped down to Cassandra’s level and gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but… your friend’s-”  
  
Cassandra shook her head, pushing the man aside to reach Nora’s body. Nora can’t die, she thought to herself. She promised Nora that she wouldn’t die. She _promised_ her! She placed her hands on Nora’s chest, trying to feel for her heartbeat. No, no, no, _no_! She can’t die! She can’t die!  
  
“What the-” The paramedic said, his eyes widening as a strange glow started forming on the injured girl’s body from Cassandra’s hands. “I-it’s…” He rubbed his eyes, watching carefully to see if the wounds were really healing in front of his own eyes. Once no open flesh wound was left, the paramedic turned his attention to the girl who brought him over. She had tears in her eyes as she smiled at the previously-injured girl. And then she fainted.


	3. Magic Exists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, welcome back to the next chapter of The Gift of Death! So, this chapter is slightly shorter than usual, but I wanted to have a short, sweet chapter from the other characters' points of view while Cassandra is not available to be our designated narrator. Hope you'll enjoy it! 
> 
> Also, happy new year!! Hope your 2018 will be amazing and filled with fantastic stories (both fictional and otherwise)!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my OC!

It was a quiet morning.  
  
At least, it was a quiet morning in this mostly empty room filled with mostly empty beds.  
  
The old man with the terribly long beard stood still and stared at the sleeping figure on the only occupied bed in the room, a small smile on his face. Beside him, a woman in emerald green robes frowned every few minutes. They were soon joined by another woman with grey hair and kind blue eyes. They stood together in silence. Then, the woman in the emerald green robes interrupted it.  
  
“Albus, what were you thinking?” The woman, Minerva McGonagall, asked, turning to look at the older man.  
  
The man chuckled. “Why, Professor McGonagall, I merely wanted to save the child from unnecessary questioning.”  
  
“You truly believe she will awaken soon?” she asked, in response.  
  
“I have hopes that she will. What do you think, Poppy?”  
  
The woman in question, Madame Poppy Pomfrey, tsked. “Honestly, I haven’t a clue. Displaying such healing magic without being taught… it was no wonder the backlash was as severe.”  
  
“But you are impressed, are you not, Poppy?” Albus Dumbledore asked, a knowing glint in his eyes.  
  
Pomfrey chose not to reply and instead, shifted her gaze over to the young girl. Young, but impressive. Pomfrey had not heard of a witch at her age performing healing spells, though, Pomfrey didn’t know whether it was wise to consider what the girl did as _spells_. She placed a warm hand on the girl’s forehead and sighed, walking away to get more potions and a wet cloth for her new patient. Thankfully, it was almost time for the final exams at Hogwarts. Pomfrey had hopes that not many students would end up injured during such a crucial time.  
  
Professor McGonagall knew that Albus was right. The young brunette had potential in a type of magic that not many could say they had. She pressed her lips together. But that didn’t mean that Albus should have swept the girl up and brought her to Hogwarts without conferring with the Ministry of Magic. It was obvious that Cornelius Fudge and the rest of the Ministry officials didn’t like Albus Dumbledore’s interference and she knew that a visit from them would be due. Professor McGonagall took one last look at the girl before turning on her heels and leaving the room.  
  
Albus Dumbledore sighed. The poor girl, Cassandra Stark, had an unfortunate childhood. Abandoned at the age of three at an orphanage, bullied at school, and now, she had almost witnessed the death of someone she knew. It was no wonder that her magic formed when it did. He allowed himself a small smile as he remembered the Ministry of Magic working as fast as they could to cover the incident up and obliviate the minds of the muggles involved. Albus Dumbledore drew the curtains, covering the girl from the view of any visitors. He left the girl to the care of Madame Pomfrey as he prepared himself for some Ministry officials. 

  


It didn’t take long for students to begin spreading a rumor that a sleeping beauty resided at the hospital wing in Hogwarts. Some said that the person who successfully saw the girl would do extremely well on their exams. Of course, it was preposterous, but it didn’t stop the students from trying their luck, if only to take their minds off studying. Madame Pomfrey had no choice but to move the sleeping brunette to another room to avoid disturbing the girl’s rest.  
  
“Mr. Wood, I do believe you have somewhere else to be?” Professor McGonagall asked as she saw several students crowding outside the hospital wing.  
  
“Professor! Is it true?” The dark-haired young man asked. “Is there really a girl?”  
  
She levelled a stern gaze at them and pressed her lips into a thin line. “And what does a girl have to do with your exams?” She gestured at them to leave. “Now move along.”  
  
The crowd of students dispersed and Madam Pomfrey poked her head out, “Goodness, Minerva. The students and their curiosity…”  
  
“Indeed. They should find better hobbies.” Professor McGonagall stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “It’s been a week, Poppy. Is she doing any better?”  
  
“She is. I would say that some of her complexion have returned. Her bruises, on the other hand… well, it could have been worse.” Pomfrey folded a couple of cloths and sighed. “I reckon she would awaken soon, but it is hard to say.”  
  
Professor McGonagall nodded. “Very well. Thank you, Poppy.”

  


A week passed, and the students were all leaving Hogwarts after a productive year of studying. Though, most of them were looking forward to the holidays since a month ago. Albus Dumbledore watched as the students left with promises of visiting new and old friends they had gained over their schooling year. It had always made Dumbledore pleased at the thought of his students understanding the importance of friendship in a world dominated by power and knowledge. Dumbledore walked through the castle grounds, taking in the peace and quiet after the hustling and bustling of students studying. He found himself walking to a room by the hospital wing, hoping that maybe the girl would have finally awakened.  
  
Dumbledore knocked on the door before stepping into the room and took a seat by the bed. He picked up a nearby book, which happened to be _Tales of Beedle the Bard_. He didn’t expect a nine-year-old girl would need someone to read to her, but he didn’t find any harm in letting the girl hear the old wizard’s tale. He began reading it, an amused smile plastered on his lips. It was a funny story.  
  
“How did the father make the cauldron do that?” A soft voice asked.  
  
Dumbledore looked down at the brunette, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and smiled, “why, he used magic, of course.”  
  
“Magic?”  
  
“Yes, like you did,” Dumbledore answered patiently, giving the girl some time to reorient herself.  
  
She blinked and pulled the blanket higher, wrapping herself up into a cocoon. “I did? But I… I’m not...?” Then she frowned. “Where is Nora?”  
  
It took a short while, but Dumbledore remembered who Nora was. “Ah yes, you saved her. She’s alive because of you.”  
  
“I did?”  
  
“With magic.” Dumbledore pulled out his wand and pointed it at the lamp on the side table. The lamp transformed into a small pigeon.  
  
Cassandra looked at Dumbledore, then at the bird standing on the side table just staring at her, and back to Dumbledore. Then, her eyes rolled back as she lost consciousness again. Dumbledore looked amused as he rose to his feet. “Poppy will not be happy.”


	4. A New Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter Four of The Gift of Death! This is a longer chapter than the previous one. It might even be my longest chapter for this story thus far, but I didn't actually measure it to check. We are back to Cassandra's POV. There are a few things I thought of addressing for this chapter, but I decided to push those back to when Cassandra starts to explore her unusual gift. Anyway, hope you'll enjoy it! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for Cassandra Stark.

Cassandra wondered if she was dreaming. She remembered an old man with long silver-white hair reading a strange story to her about a cauldron that would make a lot of noise. It sounded bizarre, of course. How could a cauldron possibly walk? Then, her mind decided to play tricks on her. A lamp turning into a pigeon? How foolish! Magic, she scoffed. If that were real, why didn’t more people know about its existence? She stretched and forced her body up. Looking around, she frowned. She didn’t remember the orphanage looking quite as dark, grey, and dreary. She stood up and ran her fingers through the brick walls, startling a little at how smooth it felt compared to how rough it looked. The room was lit up by torches, which didn’t make sense to her. Did she honestly travel back in time? Was someone playing a trick on her?  
  
She made her way to the wooden door and blinked. It had a huge keyhole made for those large keys that people in the past used. She remembered reading about them and instantly, her mind wandered to the existence of dungeons. Was she a prisoner? She shook her head. Nonsense. She pulled the door open and stepped out into the corridor.  
  
It was quiet, almost too quiet. It felt like these castle walls needed more…people, for some reason. She walked over to the ledge and found that there were a few floors below her. But that didn’t matter. She rubbed her eyes a couple of times. Were the staircases actually moving? Now this had to be a dream. She turned around and began walking back to the room she woke up in. At least it was safer than moving stairs. Cassandra figured she could just lie down on the bed and try to wake up from this odd dream.  
But nothing ever went according to plan. Sitting on a chair in the room was the same old man she had seen. She knocked on the door. “Hello?” The old man turned around, facing her with a kind smile. “Who are you?”  
  
He noticed the way Cassandra’s eyes darted around the room. Cautious girl; a smart girl, indeed. “My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” he answered, smiling as her eyes widened at his name. “Although, normally, I’m usually just called Albus Dumbledore.”  
  
“I-I see…” Cassandra seemed to be holding in her laughter as she gave him a small smile. “I’m Cassandra Stark.”  
  
“Yes, I do recall,” Albus Dumbledore replied simply. “I reckon you have quite a number of questions, Miss Stark?”  
  
She had a wry smile. She had too many questions to ask, but she _needed_ to know a few for now. “Where’s Nora?” She bit her bottom lip as she remembered the last time she saw Nora—bleeding from her head wound. “And how is she?”  
  
“I believe she is doing just fine after your valiant efforts, Miss Stark. That was quite an impressive healing magic you have used.” He leaned back on his seat. “Any other questions, Miss Stark?”  
  
Cassandra furrowed her eyebrows together. Magic? She couldn’t have magic. Sure, weird things happen around her, but it didn’t mean… “Are you real? You’re not a dream?”  
  
Dumbledore chuckled and then offered his hand to her. “I am as real as the invisible thestrals in Hogwarts.”  
  
Cassandra blinked, having absolutely no idea what thestrals were nor where Hogwarts is located. She moved closer, reaching out to touch Dumbledore’s wrinkly hand. _Warm_. Cassandra tried pinching herself. The sharp pain did nothing to calm her racing heart. This wasn’t a dream. She scanned the room again. “Where are we? How are the staircases moving on their own? And what magic? How can I have magic?”  
  
“We are in Hogwarts right now, my dear child. Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he answered, a kind smile on his face. “The staircases move because of magic and you are, though you might not believe me, a witch, Miss Stark, and from what I can see,” his eyes twinkled with delight, “a fine young witch.”  
  
Cassandra took a seat on the bed. “If I am a witch, then how do I prove it?”  
  
“Have you ever done things that you couldn’t explain? Perhaps in distress, you find yourself appearing in another safer place.”  
  
Cassandra heaved a sigh, knowing full well what Albus Dumbledore meant. “What am I supposed to do then?”  
  
Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “ _Now_ , you should sleep. I am certain that a little sleep will help you.” He stood up, gave her a slight nod, and left the room.  
  
A witch. She was a _witch_. She shivered, wondering what exactly does that mean. Weren’t witches burned at the stake? She shook her head. It didn’t seem like Albus Dumbledore wanted to burn her at the stake. No point in worrying about that now. But it made sense somehow; weird things happened _because_ she was a witch. She rested on her back, staring at the ceiling. She had no idea how powerful magic could be and how powerful her own magic was, but she knew she needed to find out. Maybe she could learn to control it, she thought to herself. Maybe, just maybe, Cassandra would figure out how to stop her visions of other people’s death. 

  


The next time Cassandra awoke, it was finally morning and her stomach growled. She looked around the room, thankful that no one heard her. She stepped onto the stone-cold floor, sending shivers up her legs. She pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her. It was no wonder she was cold. She hadn’t noticed the flimsy hospital gown she had on her. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair and made her way out to the corridor. Cassandra marvelled at the structure of this—and it was only an assumption—of this castle.  
  
“Good morning,” a voice said. Cassandra turned, trying to find where did the voice come from. “Over here, dear.” Cassandra narrowed her eyes at the talking portrait on her right. She walked closer to it and started touching the frame. “Oh goodness me, you must be new here! Did I frighten you?”  
  
Cassandra nodded and smiled, “no, I mean, you did scare me, but that’s quite alright. I had no idea that well, that portraits could move, kind sir.”  
  
The moustached man in silver armour guffawed. “Indeed, we can all move. Though most, not all mind you, can talk as well.” Then, he twirled his gloved finger around his moustache. “Do you need directions, girl?”  
  
Cassandra’s stomach took that as cue to growl. She turned a shade of pink as the portrait began another bout of obnoxious laughter. When he finally stopped, she nodded her head. “Yes, please. As you can hear, I’m feeling quite peckish.”  
  
He smiled and began to get into a jumping stance, “follow me then, fair child!” Cassandra watched in amazement as he jumped from his own portrait into another portrait. “Pardon me! Coming through!” he shouted, as Cassandra ran after the surprisingly-swift knight.  
  
She was thankful as he guided her through the moving and vanishing stairs though she was envious that he didn’t have to deal with the annoying obstacles. Cassandra had no idea how far she had walked, but soon, she stood in front of these huge double doors that seemed to stretch so high up that she could barely see where it stopped. She frowned. The doors looked too big for her to push on her own. She looked towards one of the portraits to ask the moustached knight if these doors led to the kitchen, but he had vanished. She scrunched her nose and sighed. Placing both hands on the wooden door, she started pushing when the doors opened all on its own to reveal a huge room with four long tables spread out vertically with benches on either side of each of the tables. Then, there was a long table at the end of the room, spread out horizontally, with several wooden chairs. Cassandra waved as she noticed the familiar Albus Dumbledore sitting on the biggest chair. On either side of him, there were several other people, each with a look of surprise on their faces.  
  
Dumbledore stood up, pushing his chair back with flourish. He smiled. “Welcome to the Great Hall, Cassandra Stark. Would you care to join us for some breakfast?”  
  
Cassandra stared at each of the people present. A brown-haired woman with a stern look in a green emerald robe regarded her with a nod and impressively, a small smile. She sat on Dumbledore’s right. Next to her, was a shorter man with white hair. He had spectacles on and a gentle smile. On Dumbledore’s left, Cassandra found herself staring into the dark eyes of a greasy-haired man who gave her a suspicious look. On his left, there was a plump woman with curly grey hair. She smiled at Cassandra, nodding a bit. Then, next to her, was a woman dressed in a red dress, but she had a white apron over her dress. She was furrowing her eyebrows together, like she wasn’t prepared for Cassandra’s sudden appearance.  
  
The young brunette flushed pink. She imagined she looked horrible. Her hair must have looked like a bird made a nest in it. Then, to make matters worse, she was dragging around a blanket, barefooted. But she managed to nod, looking down to the floor. If she had been in the orphanage, they would have sent her back to the bathrooms, then lock her in her room without giving her anything to eat. _Appearance is everything, Miss Stark_. Of course, she remembered.  
  
“Fantastic, Miss Stark. Come, have a seat,” his gentle voice urged her. She made her way across the long room. A chair appeared right where she stood in front of Dumbledore as she tried to figure out where to sit. She took a seat just as her stomach growled again.  
  
She coughed, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry!” It was embarrassing enough to be in her dishevelled state. To have her stomach shame her even further didn’t help.  
  
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, dear,” the woman in the red dress said as she walked over to offer her an empty plate as the table began to fill up with more breakfast foods. Placing a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder, she smiled. “Now, how are you feeling?”  
  
Cassandra returned the woman’s smile after having a bite of sausage. “Much better, thanks.” Then, turning her attention to everyone else at the table, she offered a small smile. “I- um, I’m Cassandra Stark. I’m really sorry for interrupting your breakfast.”  
  
“As I’ve said, dear, it’s quite alright. Now, I suppose you must be wondering who we are.” The woman in red replied after returning to her seat in a graceful manner. “Poppy Pomfrey. I am the matron at Hogwarts. I really am glad to see you up and about, but you shouldn’t be out of bed so soon,” she chided in a motherly-like way, causing Cassandra to apologize again.  
  
“Minerva McGonagall.” The woman in the emerald green robes said. “I teach Transfiguration at Hogwarts.”  
  
Cassandra straightened up, not wanting to disrespect the stern-looking woman. “What exactly is Transfiguration, ma’am?”  
  
McGonagall opened her mouth to reply only to be interrupted by Dumbledore. “Now, why don’t we get you familiarised with Hogwarts and its professors before you begin learning about magic and its subtype?” Dumbledore smiled even after McGonagall gave him a pointed look.  
  
Cassandra nodded, knowing better than to push the topic. Besides, she had all the time to- Wait, what about the orphanage? They had to have noticed that she was missing. The look of alarm must have appeared on her face as Dumbledore just shook his head.  
  
“All is well, Cassandra. They have been given notice that you are transferred from their care.”  
  
“Thank you, but I don’t understand,” she tilted her head to the left, biting her lower lip. “What am I supposed to do now? If I can’t go back to-”  
  
The short man chuckled, a kind expression on his face showed Cassandra he didn’t mean any insult. “Professor Dumbledore has already decided that you will live here in the school.” Then, noticing that she was staring at him. “Oh yes, I am Professor Filius Flitwick, Miss Stark, and I teach Charms at Hogwarts.”  
  
“Stay here? In this school? Where people learn _magic_?” Cassandra’s fair skin turned pale as she wondered about living in a school. It sounded preposterous. But at the same time, she was grateful for their kind consideration. Would a school for wizards and witches be better than her old school? Would she finally fit in? Would they, the other students, be like her?  
  
The man with the greasy hair leaned forward, “and how old are you, girl?”  
  
Cassandra shrank back at the intensity of his stare, but she forced herself to sit up straighter. “I’m nine, sir.” She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled. “I know I’m young. But I promise I-”  
  
“Severus,” Dumbledore reprimanded, “there’s no need for you to frighten Miss Stark.” Then, Dumbledore turned towards Cassandra and smiled. “You will not be attending classes yet. Do not worry, once you have turned eleven, you will be joining students of your age. Finish your meal and Poppy will help get you settled in. I trust you will be listening to her?”  
  
Cassandra nodded, “of course, sir. Thank you, Professor.” She gobbled down the last of her scrambled eggs, took a huge gulp of orange juice, and made to stand up as Madame Pomfrey made her way to her. As she was walking out of the large room, she realised she hadn’t learned the name of the plump woman with the greying hair, but she had a feeling that she was another one of the professors residing in the school. She wondered about the classes and lessons that would be taught at Hogwarts. She wondered if it’ll be as simple as saying ‘abracadabra.’ 

  


Cassandra was given a room with smooth wooden walls and she was even given new clothes to wear. She was surprised when all her belongings from the orphanage turned up in her room. She was given a small chest to keep her belongings in and a small wardrobe to keep her clothes. She was glad that most of the new clothes were long skirts and long-sleeved t-shirts. She sighed, looking at the slow-healing bruises scattered across her arms. It was hideous, honestly. She wondered if there was a spell to make the bruises disappear faster.  
  
For the most part, Cassandra took to exploring the castle and she was ecstatic at finding the library. She had to admit to being terrified of Madam Irma Pince. The woman looked like she knew everything that went on in the library even if she wasn’t there. Cassandra tried learning as much as she could about Hogwarts and magic. She found _Hogwarts: A History_ and it was easy for her to absorb the information. After all, Cassandra spent her time in the castle; it was like having a practical lesson after reading a chapter.  
  
Besides reading, Cassandra tried spending some time learning about the professors and the subjects they teach at Hogwarts. Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout, the woman she did not get the name of previously, were very generous with their knowledge and seemed to really enjoy Cassandra’s genuine interest and curiosity for Charms and Herbology.  
  
Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, refused to teach Cassandra anything about Transfiguration before she started class. Taking matters into her own hands, Cassandra decided to read books about transfiguration and went to Professor McGonagall with several pages filled with specific questions. The older woman raised her eyebrow and pressed her lips into a thin line before giving the young brunette a small smile, looking impressed. Although, she still refused to answer a few of Cassandra’s questions.  
  
She met some of the other professors as well. She wasn’t sure what to make of Professor Binns, who died and became a ghost. It was the first time she had a dead professor. The good news was Cassandra had no vision concerning Professor Binns’ death. But it did seem kind of ironic that a ghost was teaching History of Magic. But it was still eerie when she walked past him having conversations with the other resident ghosts, like Sir Nicholas and the Fat Friar. She thought most of the ghosts were quite friendly, for the most part. Though, the resident poltergeist, Peeves, was unlike everyone else. Cassandra took to avoiding the poltergeist when she had the chance. She didn’t fancy getting teased and insulted early in the morning.  
  
Anyway, there were other professors that taught in Hogwarts. Madam Hooch, the short-haired woman with piercing eyes taught First Year Flying. Apparently, there was a game played in the wizarding world called Quidditch. It was something Cassandra knew she would avoid. Broken bones and concussions didn’t seem fun.  
  
Professor Trelawney taught Divination at Hogwarts and she was a self-proclaimed seer. Cassandra had been excited to meet her, assuming that the woman had similar abilities. Unfortunately, Professor Trelawney was a proud woman who liked to keep to her own. Cassandra didn’t think it was a good idea to talk to the older blonde about her own future-telling abilities, especially since Professor McGonagall made a comment that Professor Trelawney predicted the death of one student every year—deaths that did not happen thus far. Cassandra did enjoy listening to Professor Trelawney’s exaggerated stories from time to time.  
  
There was one professor that Cassandra had almost no interaction with and that was Professor Snape. He didn’t seem to like the company of others and preferred to stay in his office. Cassandra wandered down a couple of times, trying to gather the courage to approach the intense man. She decided she needed to talk to him. After all, he would be one of her professors soon and it didn’t seem like she could avoid him forever. He didn’t seem like a bad man. As Cassandra made her way down to the dungeons, she walked to a classroom that seemed empty save for one lone figure. She knocked on the door.  
  
“Come in,” the voice inside drawled. As Cassandra entered the room, Professor Snape furrowed his brows, “and to what do I owe for the pleasure of your visit, Miss Stark?”  
But Cassandra didn’t seem to hear him. Instead, she walked straight to the cauldron that Professor Snape was using and looked at it. Her mouth was slightly open as a gasp escaped and her eyes lit up. “Is that the Draught of Peace?” She looked at the simmering white liquid, then at the unused ingredients in their respective jars lying on the table. “It’s done, isn’t it? Or have you not added the seven drops of hellebore?”  
  
Professor Snape stared at the girl. “Can you tell me what exactly is the Draught of Peace used for?”  
  
“It’s to relieve anxiety, if I’m not mistaken. I believe I’ve seen some phials of these in Madame Pomfrey’s cabinet,” Cassandra replied, looking at the professor for confirmation.  
  
“That is correct,” Professor Snape looked impressed. “What would happen if I had added too much of the ingredients?”  
  
Cassandra searched her mind for the answers. She vaguely remembered reading about the potion after trying to look for something to help with her own situation. Madame Pomfrey ended up giving her a phial of Dreamless Sleep potion. She shook her head, trying to get back to remembering Professor Snape’s question. Then, she smiled. “It’ll put the drinker into a deep sleep.”  
  
“Correct again, Miss Stark.” He looked down at her arms and noticed the fading bruises. He looked away as Cassandra pulled on her sleeves. “Was there something you needed from me, Miss Stark?”  
  
She shook her head,” no, I was just wondering if I could- If I could watch you. The books described the steps of making the potions, but it doesn’t exactly tell you how much time would each step take and how much we should wait before adding the next ingredient or even what pace we should keep at each step. So, I really want to watch how you do it.” She gave him a pleading look. It wasn’t as though she could have made the potions herself. But it was better than silently hoping for a wand to practice magic with.  
  
Professor Snape’s serious expression softened a tiny bit. He shook his head. “No.” Cassandra looked crestfallen and was about to turn around to leave the room when Professor Snape stopped her. “There will not be any free watching, Miss Stark. If you wish to stay here, you will help me by getting the ingredients I ask for.”  
  
Cassandra grinned and nodded. “Of course, sir!”


	5. Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the new year has been treating you well! Also, good luck to everyone who is facing some pretty weird weather. This is, unfortunately, a short chapter, but I felt like it was important to include this chapter. There are several important reveals here and I'm excited about that. Enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think! 
> 
> P.S.: The next chapter will be the beginning of Cassandra's first year at Hogwarts. I'm always excited when the Sorting Hat comes into play. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything except Cassandra Stark.

Months flew by and soon, it was time for Cassandra’s eleventh birthday. The brunette had grown up in Hogwarts, learning about magic and watching magic and being enthralled by the wonders of having it. She had waited for when she would finally have her own wand to practice magic with. Over the time, she had grown close to the professors, knowing their little quirks. She was never close to the Defence Against the Dark Arts professors though, as they were quickly replaced by the next one.  
  
She learned more about Hogwarts and the hidden passages that seemed to have been built into the castle at its creation. She wondered if it was a joint effort or were those passages purely Rowena Ravenclaw’s idea. Cassandra knew how exactly to hide from the Hogwarts students and it was a good thing she discovered as much as she could over the summer during the year she first arrived. It was perhaps creepy, but she enjoyed spending time looking at the students as they interacted with their friends and with their other peer. It was like any other school, true, but instead of throwing punches, the students traded jinxes and spells at each other. Cassandra took note of which ones worked well and which didn’t. For educational purposes, of course.  
  
Cassandra had a goal of reading every single book from the library and she wasn’t even close to reaching her target. After all, she only had the chance to borrow a few of them at a time. If Cassandra had wanted to read books that Madam Pince refused to let the young girl borrow, she had to make her way to the library when a quidditch match was happening. Students generally went to the matches, allowing themselves some reprieve from school work.  
  
Cassandra had awoken on her birthday to presents in her room. It was an odd thing to see as it had been a while since she had received gifts from anyone. The brown-eyed girl smiled as she walked over to the presents. There was a gift from Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, Madame Pomfrey, and surprisingly, Professor Snape. They had given her simple gifts to help for when she began school. Professor McGonagall had given her the textbooks that are required for her first year. Professor Flitwick generously gifted her with a telescope for Astronomy class. Professor Sprout wrapped a pair of dragon hide gloves in parchment paper for the young girl. Madame Pomfrey had bought sweets from Honeydukes, which Cassandra had not had the chance to try yet, despite living in Hogwarts for the past couple of years. Professor Snape had gotten her a standard potion kit. Cassandra beamed at receiving the gifts. She had yet to open the final birthday gift from Professor Dumbledore. It felt heavy in her hands and she furrowed her eyebrows. It was small, but heavy. What in Merlin’s name could it be?  
  
She unwrapped it and found a small pouch filled with about fifteen galleons and a note in scrawled writing. She took the note out and laughed. The money was for her to get her robes and her wand. She placed the pouch in her pocket and made her way to the kitchens. She tickled the pear and peered in to see the house elves working diligently to get breakfast ready for the Hogwarts students and staff.  
  
“Good morning,” she greeted them and at once, all of them turned to greet her with big smiles.  
  
“Miss Stark!” Evie, one of the house elves, greeted. “Happy birthday!”  
  
Cassandra flushed, not knowing how to respond to that. It was apparently Professor Dumbledore’s idea to inform the house elves about her birthday the year before. “Thank you, Evie, but please,” Cassandra placed her index finger on the house elf’s lips, a look of joy in her eyes, “don’t mention it to the world.”  
  
“Of course, miss! Evie will be quiet as you requested.” Evie agreed.  
  
Cassandra laughed as she took a seat by the table and grabbed some food to eat. Cassandra was already running late by the time she was done eating breakfast. She took her scarf, wrapped it around her neck, and rushed to Professor Dumbledore’s office just as the other Hogwarts students were making their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. It was, after all, a Tuesday, which meant the students had classes to attend. Cassandra rapped her knuckles on the wooden door and waited for Professor Dumbledore to let her in.  
  
“Happy birthday, Miss Stark,” the old wizard greeted with a twinkle of delight in his eyes. “It’s not every day you turn eleven.” Then, he noticed Cassandra bouncing on one spot. “Ah, you must be excited for a different reason, I presume?”  
  
Cassandra grinned, tucking her hair behind her ear. It was surprisingly long now, but she liked having it long. “Of course, professor! I can get my wand today!” She waved hi to the quiet phoenix perched by Professor Dumbledore’s desk. The red-feathered phoenix seemed to nod in acknowledgement. “Once I get my wand, I’ll be able to start practicing magic, right?”  
  
The Headmaster at Hogwarts chuckled, “yes, that would be the case. However, I do believe you have already begun practicing magic without a wand, Miss Stark?” The sheepish smile that appeared on her face only served to warm Professor Dumbledore’s heart. She was such a curious girl, so much brighter and happier than when she first arrived. Perhaps magic did have the ability to save lives. The two occupants of the room heard a loud knock at the door. “Aha, that must be Hagrid now. Come in, Hagrid.”  
  
The hairy-looking half-giant walked into the room with a huge grin. “Good mornin’ Dumbledore, sir.” Then, he waved his stubby hands at the young brunette in the room. “And you, young Cassandra, a ‘appy birthday, indeed! Why, it’s not everyday you turn eleven now is it?”  
  
Cassandra ran over to give Hagrid a hug, though she could barely wrap her arms around the man’s stomach. “Thank you, Hagrid!”  
  
It had been over a year ago since Cassandra had met Hagrid and to say she had taken a liking to him would have been an understatement. The two of them bonded over their mutual love for fascinating and rare creatures. Cassandra made it a point to always visit Hagrid at his hut whenever she found anything new from the library and Hagrid would share his own tales about seeing some of the _misunderstood creatures_ , as he would have said.  
  
Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Now, Miss Stark, Hagrid here will be bringing you to Diagon Alley. But remember to listen to him and not wander off, as you well know what day it is today.”  
  
Cassandra nodded, sharing a look of amusement with Hagrid. She knew what day it was. It was a dreadful celebration to share her birthday with, but she didn’t have much of an option as to when her mother had given birth to her. Hagrid chuckled, patting the young girl’s head affectionately and making a mess of it.  
  
“Well then, let’s be off, Cassandra!”

  


Diagon Alley had to be one of the most amazing places in the world. The crooked cobblestone alley was filled with oddly-shaped, small buildings that housed some of the most magical mysteries that any one wizard and witch could find. Cassandra’s eyes widened, her mouth dropped open as a soft gasp escaped her lips. It was truly amazing. There were shops for buying school robes, books, cauldrons, potion ingredients, etc. Of course, there was only one shop for getting wands and that honour belonged to Mr. Ollivander.  
  
Hagrid chuckled at the sight of the awestruck girl. Placing a gentle hand on top of her head, “what do you say to visiting Mr. Ollivander, Cassandra?”  
  
“Yes, please!” The girl replied in an excited tone. The bright smile on her face made the gentle half-giant laugh in delight as he led her through the crowd, weaving their way to Ollivander’s. Cassandra stood in front of the store, her feet glued to one spot. Ollivander’s was said to have been around for an extremely long time, sometime during the middle ages if Cassandra remembered correctly. She pushed the door open and entered the shop with Hagrid following right behind. The shop was quiet and messy. Cassandra knew that Madam Pince would have stormed out in rage at the sight of the lopsided wand boxes. The floorboards creaked under her shoes as she made her way to the counter.  
  
An unkempt white-haired man appeared from behind the shop, balancing on the ladder with wheels. “Aha! I had a feeling you would be coming today, Miss Stark.”  
  
Cassandra exchanged looks with Hagrid. Hagrid nodded, encouraging the young girl to talk to Mr. Ollivander. Cassandra straightened her back. “Good morning, sir,” she greeted. “How did you…well, how did you know my name?”  
  
Mr. Ollivander chuckled. “I know quite a lot, my dear. And I do know you are looking for a wand.” He stepped down from the ladder and picked up a box on his way to Cassandra. He took the lid off and handed the wand to the wide-eyed witch. “Go on, try it.” He insisted, nodding with a sense of urgency. Cassandra reached out and barely took the wand in her left hand. Mr. Ollivander snatched the wand back, shaking his head. “No, no, definitely not that wand.” He placed the wand back into the box and left it on the counter as he went back to the shelves to pick up another wand box.  
  
Cassandra furrowed her eyebrows together, glancing at Hagrid’s reassuring expression. “Sorry, sir, but I don’t understand.”  
  
“The wand chooses the witch, Miss Stark,” Mr. Ollivander replied, chuckling softly. “Now,” he placed the wand box down and offered the wand inside to the young girl. “Try waving this.”  
  
Cassandra picked up the wand and a few wand boxes flew out from the shelves. She dropped the wand and apologized. Mr. Ollivander went about the store, muttering to himself and glancing at her as he brought more wands over to the young brunette. After several more wands, Mr. Ollivander seemed pleased.  
  
“This should be it,” he passed the wand to her.  
  
Cassandra took the wand tentatively into her left hand. Then, she smiled. Nothing flew, exploded, or broke as she held onto the wand. Instead, she felt at ease, comfortable even. It was indeed a beautiful wand too. The smooth brown wood had an intricate, leaf-like handle as it narrows in size as it got closer to the tip. Cassandra looked up at Mr. Ollivander as he nodded.  
  
“9-inch long rowan wood with a phoenix feather core,” he commented. Then, turning his piercing gaze to her, he leaned in closer. “Do you know what that means, Miss Stark?” Cassandra shook her head. The old man opened his mouth to answer, but then shook his head and changed his mind. “I expect great things from you, Miss Stark.”  
  
Cassandra nodded, paying the seven galleons for her wand. She bit her bottom lip. “I hope to live up to your expectations, Mr. Ollivander.” Hagrid walked closer and patted his large hand over her head. “Thank you, sir.” The duo turned around to leave but they are stopped once more.  
  
“Oh, and I do wish you a very happy valentine’s day, Miss Stark.”  
  
The young brunette grimaced. Then, forcing a smile onto her face, “you as well, sir.” Cassandra walked out the door with Hagrid right behind her. She cradled the wand close to her chest, smiling at it fondly. She turned to speak to Hagrid who walked right beside her. “Shall we go get my robes now?”  
  
Hagrid led Cassandra to the second-hand robes shop for Cassandra to get her robes. It wasn’t like she had much money to spare. She waved at Hagrid as Hagrid chose to wait outside. It didn’t seem like the store could afford to have Hagrid in it. Cassandra promised to be quick as she manoeuvred her way through shelves of robes. She found her robes and went out of the store to see the half-giant holding a large sundae cone.  
  
“For yeh birthday, Cassandra!” He exclaimed as he lowered himself to pass the cone to her.  
  
She took the cone with both her hands and grinned. “Thank you, Hagrid!” The duo walked along the street, admiring the shops and the small stalls that had appeared as the morning became afternoon. They avoided the lovesick couples that seemed oblivious to everything around them, and spoke only sweet nothings to their significant other. Hagrid had pulled Cassandra closer to him as one couple suddenly stopped walking to look at a stall selling jewellery. It was this subtle care from the gentle half-giant that made Cassandra feel like she had found a true friend in the older man. As they made their way to the Leaky Cauldron, Cassandra turned around to give Diagon Alley one last look. It was truly a magnificent place.  
  
She wished it would always be this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to the Harry Potter Wikia, "Rowan wood was a prized wand wood due to its reputation for protection, and was noted by Garrick Ollivander to generally produce powerful, hard to break Defensive Charms. Rowan was also noted for its believed disassociation with the Dark Arts. Ollivander, who had a nearly photographic memory when it came to the wands he had sold, could not recall a single instance of a wizard he sold a rowan wand to ever becoming evil or turning to the Dark Arts. Perhaps for these reasons, rowan has become associated with pure-hearted wizards, though Ollivander noted that rowan wands can also match or even outperform others in duels."


	6. Year One: Sorting Hat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, school is starting for Cassandra! Welcome back to the beginning of Cassandra's Hogwarts experience and well, we are off to an interesting start. This chapter's kind of short, but I am hoping I ended it on a good part.  The twins and everyone else made a minor appearance. They will have a bigger role in the next chapter. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think! I really appreciate everyone who gave this story a chance and especially everyone who has loved it so far. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for my character, Cassandra Stark. The Sorting Hat song and Professor McGonagall's speech to the First Years were taken from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. 

Cassandra ran through the castle, stumbling a little over the stairs as she hurried to get to the Great Hall. She was late. Far too late, if the loud chattering was any indication that the Hogwarts Train had arrived. She skidded to a stop as she spotted the stern expression on Professor McGonagall’s face. Cassandra bowed her head, her face flushing pink as she noticed the curious looks from the other First Year students.

“S-sorry, Professor,” the young brunette apologized. It was entirely her own fault. She was reading and trying out some new spells from the books she was reading and lost track of time. Professor McGonagall just sighed and gestured at her to stand along the other students. Cassandra nodded, moving at once. She was lost in her own thoughts, barely paying attention to Professor McGonagall.

 "Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.”

 Several of the students started nudging each other, a nervous smile on their faces. Cassandra might have done the same if she wasn’t focused on keeping any weird visions from her mind.  She kept her eyes glued to her feet to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points,” Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow, “while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can.” Professor McGonagall walked off, leaving the first years to whisper to each other.

A dark-skinned girl grinned. “I want to be in Gryffindor,” she declared, seeming confident.

“I wonder how we’ll be sorted?” asked another girl, biting her lower lip.

 “Charlie said we’ll have a test-” A ginger-haired boy began, speaking in a dramatic tone.

 “-and we’ll have to use the spells we learned.” His twin ended, using his hands to imitate using a wand. The twins shared a look and shrugged as the other students started panicking over the thought of using spells.

 Cassandra shook her head, giggling to herself as she caught both twins’ eye. They winked at her and placed their index finger on their lips in a shushing. Her smile widened as she nodded, agreeing to keep silent.

Professor McGonagall returned and said, “now then, we are ready for you. Please form a line and follow me.”

Cassandra stood behind the dark-skinned girl from before as they all walked into the Great Hall. All eyes were on them and it was clear that the first-year students were nervous and excited. Cassandra gazed up at the bewitched night sky and felt shivers running down her spine. This was unlike any other time Cassandra had been in the Great Hall. But, she knew, that this time had to be different. Everything can change with just a simple word. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin. The old and tattered Sorting Hat held a lot of power in its tiny form, but there was more to the Sorting Hat than just sorting new students into their houses. Cassandra had enjoyed all those times she spent talking to the Sorting Hat. He, and she decided it was a he because he had belonged to Godric Gryffindor, regaled her with stories of the past. He was an excellent storyteller in his raspy, knowing voice. Cassandra shook her head. It was best to focus on the here and now. It didn’t seem like a good idea for her to trip on her unofficial first day of starting at Hogwarts.

The first years made their way to stand right before the High Table as Professor Dumbledore winked at Cassandra. Cassandra responded with a nervous smile and a thumbs-up. Professor McGonagall had a scroll of names in one hand and she stood to the side. All eyes turned to look at the hat that sat on the four-legged stool directly in front of the High Table.

Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

Everyone clapped as the Sorting Hat finished his song. Cassandra swore the hat had winked at her as it took turns bowing to each of the four tables that sat the different houses. She had heard a few of her fellow first years sighing in relief.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward, clearing her throat to regain everyone’s attention. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," the older woman announced. “Atkinson, Lauren!”

Cassandra kept her eyes looking down at her feet. There were too many new people for her to meet in one day. She didn’t even bother looking up as she heard the Sorting Hat yell, “Ravenclaw!” nor did she pay attention to the loud applause from the second right table as they welcomed the new student into their midst.

 “Davies, Roger!”  A brown-haired boy with a confident smirk stood on the stool with the Sorting Hat on his head. The boy left for the Ravenclaw table after the Sorting Hat announced his house. 

“Diggory, Cedric!” Professor McGonagall had shouted as a flushed looking, tall boy made his way to the stool. The Sorting Hat was barely on his head when his house was declared. The boy strode over to the Hufflepuff table after thanking the hat. Several other students were sorted to their houses such as Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, and Alicia Spinnet were all sorted into Gryffindor before it was Cassandra’s turn. Professor McGonagall offered the young brunette an encouraging smile. “Stark, Cassandra!”

 Cassandra gave the older woman a shaky smile as she took the Sorting Hat and placed it on her head from where she sat on the stool. Instantly, the Sorting Hat’s voice echoed throughout her mind as she closed her eyes, refusing to look at anyone in the crowd. She heard the hat chuckle in response.

 “Miss Stark, I was wondering when I might see you again,” the hat rasped. “Are you frightened of the sorting or of something else, I wonder?”

 Cassandra straightened her back. “You know as well as I do that my fears have always been justified, Sorting Hat.”

“A girl plagued by death. Such tragedy, is it not? But are you _brave_ enough to face it? _Intelligent_ enough to outwit it? Perhaps you will finally warn people out of _kindness_? Or how about taking your knowledge to your advantage and further your own _ambitions_?” If a hat could smirk, Cassandra had a feeling that the Sorting Hat was smirking. “Who do you choose to be, Cassandra Stark? What will you do with your unfortunate gift?”

Past visions of people’s death passed through her mind, making her gasp. She froze, rubbing her hands together. People who died peacefully in their sleep. People who died in a tragic accident. People who willingly killed themselves. Cassandra opened her eyes and found herself staring into the mirthful brown eyes of one of the ginger-haired twins. Then, everything faded away and she found herself elsewhere.

xxx

_“Hello, Minister!” a curly, red-haired man in his early 20s greeted, though it lacked any warmth that friends usually shared. Cassandra backed away and stood near a bricked wall, her eyes wandering around to try to understand what exactly she was witnessing. The red-haired man from before pointed his wand at a black-haired wizard, who dropped his wand and clawed at the front of his robes, apparently in awful discomfort. “Did I mention I’m resigning?”_

__

_“You’re joking, Perce!” shouted another ginger-haired young man as they fought side by side. It was an older version of one of the twins Cassandra had seen. Her heart sank. She knew what was happening and there was nothing she could do about it. The man that the twin was battling dropped to the ground, though Cassandra had no idea how exactly it had happened. The black-haired wizard had fallen to the ground, as well, with tiny spikes erupting all over him. There were three other young people, perhaps students, with their wands drawn. They seemed to be with the man named Perce and the twin_.

__

_Cassandra glanced around the room, noticing that this…battle was taking place in Hogwarts. Why? Why were they fighting? It clearly showed two different groups of people are fighting. Her heart ached at the horrible, destroyed state that the castle was in. After all, it was her home. It was a fight in the only place she had ever called home and they were- She shook her head. There had to be a reason. Her eyes flitted to the unfamiliar white skull-like mask lying on the ground. She shivered, then turned her attention back to the scene unfolding in front of her_.

__

_But just as she did, she crumbled to the ground, holding her hands over her ears as the tension in the air thickened and the air exploded. She watched, helpless, as bodies flung across the room. She watched as walls came falling down from the impact of a spell. Then, she heard,_

__

_“No – no – no!” someone was shouting. “No! Fred! No!”_

__

_And the man called Perce was shaking the twin, and the other redheaded young man was beside them, and-_

__

_Cassandra moved closer, running her fingers over the twin’s, Fred’s, cheeks. An indescribable sadness welled up in her chest. Her heart clenched at the anguished cries of the two red-headed men. Cassandra stared at Fred’s face, as his eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face._

xxx

Cassandra found herself back in the Great Hall with curious and confused faces staring at her. After all, she had tears streaming down her cheeks. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Her jaw set, and her fists clenched. She knew that something had to be done and she was the only person who knew. She had to do something. She just had to. A battle was coming, and, as she looked at the worried glance of ginger-haired Fred, she didn’t want him to die. She refused to let that happen.

“I know just where to put you, Miss Stark,” the smug Sorting Hat said, a hint of pride in his voice. “Gryffindor!”

A smile appeared on her face, despite everything she witnessed. Her gift had a purpose now: she would save him no matter what.


	7. Author's Announcement

Hey everyone, I want to thank you guys for your patience these past few weeks. I know I haven't been updating in a while and I really am sorry to say that this is not a new chapter. Instead, I just wanted to explain the reasons for my hiatus and well, long story short, I was sick these past few weeks and it came one after another: sore throat, cough, cold, and fever. Though I could not write any new chapters for The Gift of Death, The Collection, and Second Time Around, I still wanted to keep writing something. If any of you are interested, I hope you will try these quizzes I came up with! (P.S: hopefully my sick-addled mind still came up with something fun... *nervous laughter*)

[Which Harry Potter Character Will Be Your Yule Ball Date?](https://www.quotev.com/quiz/10684855/Which-Harry-Potter-Character-Will-Be-Your-Yule-Ball-Date)

[Which Naruto Character is Interested in You?](https://www.quotev.com/quiz/10687177/Which-Naruto-Character-is-Interested-in-You)

I plan to finish the story request for The Collection first and then, I will move on to the other two Harry Potter stories. Hopefully, I can get the new chapters uploaded soon. Thanks again for enjoying and following these stories! Write to you guys again real soon - WrittenIdeas


	8. Lessons in Avoidance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to Chapter Seven of The Gift of Death! Or if you're new here, welcome to the story! First off, I want to apologize for disappearing for a while. I explained all that in the Author's Note chapter, and then this chapter was delayed a little longer. You see, I was checking my outline and I realized that my outline only had the words, "First week of classes," which did not help me at all. P.S. I did not follow my own outline.
> 
> Secondly, thank you, thank you, thank you for giving kudos to and for reading this story! I appreciate each and every one of you for doing that. You guys are the main reason I keep writing! Okay, let's get on with the story!
> 
> Disclaimer: I definitely do not own the Harry Potter franchise.

                Cassandra hurried over to the dungeons for double potions after eating her breakfast in the company of the house elves. Why? Well, people seemed to have no idea how to interact with her and gave her weird looks. It was unsurprising that everyone thought her odd after she cried during her sorting. She had mumbled something about bad memories, hoping that no one would question her any further. Besides, how would she explain that she actually saw a fellow classmate dying in a battle that was going to happen in the future? Yeah, if she did that, they would have thought her crazy.

 _Even_ in the wizarding world, no one seemed to have her unusual gift.

                She entered the classroom and slid onto an empty seat at the front of the class, trying to avoid anyone’s gaze. On her hectic trip to the classroom, she managed to identify several peaceful ‘ _die in their sleep_ ’ deaths and one very odd death by pixies. She refused to elaborate on the pixie death and decided to just warn the fifth year to stay away from pixies. It was perhaps, according to Cassandra, the most awkward conversation she has had in her life. _Hey, you, stay away from pixies, please_.

                Now, _if only_ she can avoid more awkward conversations and weird situations.

                As luck would have it though, Cassandra found herself sandwiched by the ginger-haired twins. She glanced at their beaming smiles and was about to move to another seat when Professor Snape entered the classroom, taking his place at the lone desk. Cassandra straightened her posture, getting her parchment paper and her quill as the professor eyed every student. He then unfurled a piece of parchment and started calling out names. Cassandra took note of the names of the other students, silently remembering some of the ways they…well, died. The young brunette was almost relieved. It seemed, thankfully, none of them met their end in a more tragic fashion than the mischievous-looking boy sitting next to her, Fred Weasley, or in a more unique fashion as the fifth year with the pixie problem. She shuddered as an image of Fred’s lifeless eyes came into mind. She shook her head, trying to force herself to focus on Professor Snape’s lecture.

                "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," Professor Snape began after clearing his throat. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

                Cassandra glanced at the boys beside her and saw them mimicking Professor Snape as the professor continued to drone on and on about the wonders of potionmaking. She covered her mouth, trying to stifle the giggles that threatened to escape. She turned her attention back to Professor Snape as he started questioning a few of the students about some of the potions and ingredients they were expected to know.

                “Miss Stark,” Professor Snape called. Everyone turned to look at her. The young brunette tried her best to avoid cringing from the sudden attention as she met Professor Snape’s eyes. “Tell me, what is the use of the flobberworm mucus and which potion requires it?”

                Blinking slowly, Cassandra searched through her memories about the slimy and familiar ingredient. A small smile appeared on her face as she answered the question, “the flobberworm mucus is used as a thickening agent, and though quite a number of potions require it as an ingredient… I’m going to have to say the, um, the Wiggenweld Potion

                Professor Snape nodded. “Well done, Miss Stark.”

                Though the words out of Professor Snape’s mouth were praise, the Gryffindor girl knew for a fact that the glint in his eyes meant something different if she had gotten the question wrong. She shuddered a little at the thought of Professor Snape’s rigorous tutoring style. “Thank you, professor,” she said instead, forcing a smile onto her face.

                After that little question, Professor Snape went on to instruct the students to prepare their first potion ever: the cure for boils. With the instructions on the blackboard, the students scrambled over to get started with their ingredients. Cassandra saw some of the Ravenclaw students hurriedly scribbling the instructions onto their parchment paper as though their life depended on it. The young brunette glanced at Professor Snape, and she understood why some of the students were eager to get this potion done right. Unfortunately, most of the Gryffindor students did not share that urgency. Cassandra eyed the twins next to her and realized that they were focused on doodling and writing stuff that had nothing to do with class. She straightened her back, trying to catch a glimpse of what they were doing, only to cover her mouth with her hand to stop herself from laughing. A moving image of Professor Snape in front of an exploding cauldron, complete with extra charred hair.

                “It seems we made Miss Stark smile, George,” the twin on her left commented, grinning at his identical twin.

                “Fred, I believe that means our mission’s complete,” George replied, pretending to run his fingers through a non-existent beard.

                Cassandra looked down at her cauldron, trying her hardest to not look at the two boys as they eyed her curiously. It didn’t help that she had about 30 minutes before she could add the horned slugs. She looked around the room, watching as most of the other students were either waiting for the time to pass or already causing a mini puddle of the mixture after heating it wrongly.

                “Jordan!!” Professor Snape snapped, eyeing the dark-skinned boy with a look of exasperation. “I see you are either illiterate or you require some visual aid,” he glared at the Gryffindor boy. “I expect you to stay behind to clean up this mess. Five points from Gryffindor.”

                There was a collective wince from the Gryffindor students; some of them tried to offer words of comfort to Lee Jordan. But it didn’t help much. It was just the first class on the first day of school during the first week and already, Gryffindor had lost some points. Cassandra felt a rush of panic as she noticed Professor Snape about to head their way, checking the other students’ work as he passed them. Without thinking it through, she quickly added 4 measures of crushed snake fangs into Fred’s cauldron and then to George’s cauldron.

                “Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley,” Professor Snape drawled, “I see you haven’t begin-” He then paused and narrowed his eyes at the twins’ cauldron. He pressed his lips together. “Very well. Carry on with your work.” He walked away, not bothering to check Cassandra’s cauldron. The young brunette noticed the astonishment on her fellow Gryffindors’ face; they looked flabbergasted by what just happened. Cassandra tried to hide her flushed cheeks as she glanced up at the clock to check the time. It was almost time then, and it was almost time for potions class to end as well. Good. She needed to get away from Fred and George Weasley. She needed to get away from the continued reminders of that horrid vision she had seen the night before.

xxx

                As soon as Professor Snape dismissed the class, except for poor Lee Jordan, Cassandra rushed out, grabbing her bag and slipping into an empty classroom nearby. She leaned her back against the door and released a sigh. She closed her eyes, trying to stop the image of Fred’s lifeless eyes from appearing again. For the time being, she needed to avoid seeing Fred and George Weasley.

                Unfortunately, avoiding a pair of twins was much harder than she thought.

                It was after lunch, and she was making her way to Charms class—taught by the endearing Professor Flitwick. She made her way there, wondering what Professor Flitwick had in store for them. She waved at the dwarf-like professor and he smiled back at her as she took a seat towards the front and at the edge.

                “Cassandra, it’s always lovely to see you,” Professor Flitwick said. “I’m glad you’re looking much better now, dear girl.”

                Cassandra felt the heat rushed up her cheeks. “Y-yes, well, I must have needed a good night’s rest…” The words came out in a soft voice. 

                “Excellent!” Professor Flitwick exclaimed, his smile widening. “You must remember to get enough rest, Cassandra. No more late-night readings while school is in session.”

                Cassandra glanced around to see if the other students were paying attention. She flushed a deeper shade of pink as she realized that they were. “Of course, Professor Flitwick.” She watched as the bespectacled professor turned his attention to greeting some of the other students. Heaving a sigh of relief, the young brunette pulled out a parchment of paper and her quill as well as the Charms textbook. She opened the book, scanning through the table of contents to see what charms they were expected to learn. Perhaps there will be something in there that could save Fred Weasley from his fate. She furrowed her brows together. What about defensive spells? She needed to know what…spell or jinx or, whatever it was, was cast though. Or perhaps there was another approach that she could take? Biting her bottom lip, she made up her mind to visit the library as soon as she can. She frowned, remembering the skull-shaped mask she had seen on the ground before Fred and the other Hogwarts students were blasted away from a spell. Perhaps…that had more of a significance? Perhaps-

                “Is anyone sitting here?” A voice had asked.

                “No, go right-” She turned to face the person, and found that it was Fred Weasley. She winced. “It’s taken!”

                The ginger-haired boy looked around the room, an amused expression on his face. “By who?”

                She glanced away, looking down at the empty seat as she struggled to come with a proper answer. “By… by, um… by-”

                “Everyone, please take your seats,” Professor Flitwick asked, a kind smile on his face. “Welcome to Charms! My name is Filius Flitwick.”

                Cassandra watched as Fred took the seat beside her. There was nothing she could have done, at least, not without being weird—or weirder than everyone had already thought of her. She turned her attention to the Charms professor, hoping that maybe she could pretend that Fred’s not-so-sneaky glances did not bother her at all.

xxx

                Cassandra made her way to the library, hoping to find some answers that might help her in her quest to save Fred Weasley. At every corner, she paused and poked her head out to scan the area. After making sure there were no ginger-haired boys, she continued her journey to the library. For the entire day, she felt as though Fred Weasley and George Weasley were popping up everywhere she went. Shaking her head, it was just a horrible coincidence. There was no way they were following her around.

                She entered the mostly-empty library and paused at the entrance, trying to decide what might be her best course of action. Defensive spells? What about healing magic? She remembered what had happened two years ago. She remembered Professor Dumbledore mentioning that what she had done was healing magic. She started making her way to the shelves, her eyes scanning through the book titles as quickly as she could and taking whatever books she thought would help. Her arms were starting to feel sore from the heavy books. If her hand was free, she would have been poking her lack of muscles. But alas, all she did was shook her head in dismay. She turned into a corner, slamming right into another person. She landed on her butt with the books that were in her arms scattering on the floor around her. Her eyes widened as a tall, burly Gryffindor student gave her an apologetic smile. She watched as a short vision filled her mind after one glance into the young man’s blue eyes. Her eyes lit up as she found herself surrounded by the majestic creatures she had dreamed about seeing: dragons, in all shapes and in all colours. She caught sight of a person on the back of one of the dragons. A voice whispered into her mind…Charlie Weasley.

                And then she was back in the library.

                She stared at the hand offered to her, before looking up to see the same person she had seen surrounded by the dragons, though… the person in front of her looked much younger now. She took his hand and he pulled her up.

                Charlie Weasley. He wasn’t just a person. He was Fred and George’s older brother.

                “You alright there?” He asked, turning a curious glance in Cassandra’s direction.

                 She flushed under his gaze, realizing that she had been silently staring at him with her mouth slightly agape. Where did all her manners go? She nodded, not trusting herself to speak yet.

                The ginger-haired Gryffindor grinned. “Good. Oh right, the name’s Charlie Weasley. I’m the-”

                “-Gryffindor prefect,” Cassandra interrupted. Charlie Weasley was also the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, though it didn’t seem right of her to say that to him, unless she wanted to seem like she had been spying on him, which she hadn't. She clasped her hand with his to shake it. “I’m, um… I’m Cassandra Stark.”

                “I know,” Charlie offered her a kind smile. “Now, what’s a first-year doing in the library at this hour,” he picked up a book from the ground and raised his eyebrow at it, “and reading _All You Need to Know About Jinxes, Curses, and the Unforgivables_?”

                Cassandra fidgeted, looking at the rest of her scattered books. She had an overwhelming urge to just snatch the book from Charlie’s hands and run away, but then that would make her look weird and perhaps even creepy. “For… for, um, light reading!” She wanted to hit her head at the odd excuse she came up with, but she had to go through with it anyway. “Just some light reading, is all.”

                His kind blue eyes crinkled in amusement. He placed his warm, comforting hand on her shoulder in a gentle clasp. He smiled at her and handed the book back. “Well then, I’ll leave you to it! Now, just remember to get back to the common room before curfew, you hear me?” After seeing the young girl’s nod, Charlie released his hand from her shoulder. He turned around to leave the library.

                “Wait!” Cassandra’s voice rang, stopping the older Gryffindor in his tracks. He gave her a questioning look. “I love dragons,” she blurted out. As soon as the words were out, she covered her mouth with both her hands, her eyes widening and her cheeks turning pink. She wasn’t sure why, but she needed him to know that—to know that she loves dragons. Or maybe… she looked down at her shoes, maybe she just wanted someone to talk to. She shook her head, her eyes wandering back to the books on the floor. No, she had no time for fun and games, not when she needed to figure out how to save Fred Weasley. As she bent down to pick up the books, Cassandra had no idea that Charlie had stopped moving.

                 The young man had turned to glance at the student, who reminded him so much of a skittish unicorn. “I love dragons too, Cassandra,” he whispered under his breath. It might be considered meddling on his part, but he felt as though Cassandra Stark would be great friends with his two younger brothers. Fred and George needed someone to reign in their mischievous side. He grinned, his eyes taking on a mirthful gaze as he wondered how his younger brothers were faring. He shook his head. It wasn’t them he was worried about; he was more concerned with how Hogwarts would fare now.


End file.
